Night in Brume

If any of you have anything at all to spare, please consider donating to Ahmed's fundraiser, his campaign is still low and he and his children are in desperate need of help. They have been repeatedly displaced, they are hungry and frightened. His children do not deserve to grow up in hell and he does not deserve to see their pain every day. Please help them. His campaign is #521 on the @gazavetters list and you can read more of his story on his account @ahmedmanal

Shares are always appreciated but actual donations are sorely needed, many campaigns are shared and shared only, the minority of people actually making donations cannot personally meet the needs of the people asking for help. We need to provide assistance as a community. I am not a large blog, but if even half of my followers made a single minimum donation, even one time, it could completely change lives, it could SAVE lives. It is easy to make a gfm account and you can donate anonymously. The more people that decide to actually donate, the less each individual will have to donate to really make a difference. If even half of the people who read this put in their spare change, we would make a bigger difference in a day than any one of us could make in a year.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #521 )✅️

Share, donate, help us survive. 🕊️❤️

In a corner of Gaza, my family and I are drowning in destruction, with the echoes of suffering surrounding us. I sat beside my modest tent, hastily erected after losing my home in the latest bombing. The faces of my family tell stories of patience and resilience, with lines of time etched upon them, as if they were records of unforgettable events. 🇵🇸⏳🍉

I once lived in a small home, filled with the laughter and voices of my children. Today, I have become a witness to the agony of displacement. The bombing forced me to flee with my children after a shell struck our home, leaving behind years of memories and simple belongings I never imagined would become unreachable. 🏚️💨

Every morning, I leave my tent and go to work, using a clay oven to provide food for my children. Meanwhile, my youngest son heads to the charity kitchens that offer aid, waiting for long hours under Gaza’s scorching sun. Despite the exhaustion that weighs down his frail body, he carries the food mixed with his tears and returns with a fake smile, hiding behind it the burdens of his struggles. 🍞🥀

At night, when everyone else is asleep, I remain seated at the entrance of my tent, gazing at the dark sky, reminiscing about days gone by… about my home that was once filled with warmth. Yet, I still find remnants of hope in my heart—a hope that one day peace will return, and my children and I will live in a new home, filled with joy. 🌙🏡✨

In moments of solitude, I find peace in prayer and supplication. I plead to God to protect Gaza and its people, to wipe away the dust of sorrow from our hearts. I always repeat🇵🇸🍉🌿

"We are here to remind the world that we are stronger than war, and we will rebuild our lives anew, no matter the cost!" 🙏

Dick: So who confessed? 

Damian: Me. I made sure it was simple and genuine. 

Jon: You yelled “listen here corn-cob, I have feelings for you and it’s about time you acknowledged them!"